The Last Hour
by saxwarrior
Summary: Submitted for Round 10 of The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. Regulus says his last goodbye to the man he loves.


Round 10 of The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Prompt: Regulus Black and a romantic relationship

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The Last Hour

Moribund's was the pub frequented by the shoppers of Knockturn Alley. The bar was founded in 1812, by a dark wizard who intended to poison his enemy, Moribund, should he ever come into the bar. The enemy did, ordered his drink, loved it so much that he bought out the pub, then keeled over a day later.

During the days of the first Wizarding War, initially Knockturn Alley was deserted. As You-Know-Who gained prominence, though, dark wizards became braver and Moribund's had a successful run.

It was on such a night when two Death Eaters took the opportunity to celebrate.

"Here's to us, Reg!" cried Barty Crouch Jr, raising his glass high.

Regulus Black raised his glass in a toast to meet his lover's. "Come here, you," said Regulus, and Barty, grinning madly leaned in to meet his kiss.

Regulus loved how he could feel Barty smiling when they kissed. "Just think," said Barty, leaning in close, "this time tomorrow, we will be _the_ most devoted of all the D-"

"Shh!" interrupted Regulus, casting a look around. "Can't say things like that out in public." There were a few people looking at them suspiciously.

"Ah, lighten up, Reg," said Barty, not at all keeping quiet. "We're in Moribund's! Who cares?"

One mean looking wizard with a shaved head and a scar over his right eye was leaning over the bar watching the couple. He cleared his throat. "I care," he said, straightening up.

Barty looked at the man with something like annoyance. "Really, mate? It's 1979. Wake up and smell the 20th century."

The wizard stood up aggressively. "The hell'd you say to me, bugger?"

Barty stood up too. "Don't," said Regulus, but he knew Barty well enough. Barty wasn't going to back down.

Barty rolled his neck, popping it on both sides, shuffling his shoulders underneath his jacket.

"You wanna fight, queer?" the wizard demanded.

Barty smirked. "You don't."

Regulus, still at the bar, eyeing the pair out of the corners of his eyes. "You really don't."

The wizard went for his wand, but Barty grabbed his first. Wordlessly, the wizard was hit with a jet of light. At once he fell over, his face covered in boils. He screamed, pressing his hands against the boils to stop pus and blood from leaking out of them. The crowd in the pub laughed as the humiliated man jumped to his feet raced out the door.

"Haha!" shouted Barty, shooting another spell at the man retreating backside. "Be sure to give all the credit to me!"

"You two!" screamed Figus, the bartender. "You're out of here now!"

Regulus swallowed the last of his drink and followed Barty out of the bar. Barty's roared with infectious laughter. Regulus couldn't help but join in.

"Smoke?" asked Barty, once they'd crossed the street and he'd caught his breath.

"Yeah, why not?" asked Regulus, reaching into his jacket pocket for his pipe. Barty filled his pipe for him and lit it with his wand before retrieving his own pipe.

"I'm tellin' you, mate," said Barty. "After tomorrow, you and me will be legends."

Regulus smiled and agreed.

"Just think about it," said Barty, putting a hand around Regulus's shoulders. "We pull this off, and we'll be in the Dark Lord's inner circle. He'll trust us more than Lestrange, or Malfoy, or Snape, or all the rest! What d'you think?"

Regulus smiled at his boyfriend and removed his pipe. "I think you're right."

Barty took his pipe in his hand and smiled back at Regulus. "Of course I'm right."

The two locked eyes, bubbling with excitement. "I love you," said Regulus, sincerely.

Barty's grin opened. "I love you, too."

They kissed again, Regulus savoring every second of it.

When they broke apart, they walked a distance, holding hands. "Shall we go over the plan again?" asked Barty.

Regulus shook his head. "I think we've done it enough."

"Aw, come on, I'm so proud!" said Barty. Regulus didn't say anything.

"Alright, then," said Barty, "I'll talk and you listen. Since it's mostly my idea."

Regulus smirked but didn't interrupt again.

"My father has graciously agreed to introduce you to the Minister for an interview for his new assistant position. Once it's just you, me, and them in the room, huzzah! We surprise them with our wands and they're under the Imperius. The Dark Lord will reward us for our triumph like nothing you can imagine!"

Regulus smiled. "It's everything we've ever dreamed of," he said, sounding tired. His hand was in his pocket. He felt the piece of parchment folded. He looked away from Barty, not wanting to meet his eyes. Fortunately, Barty wasn't all that good at reading people.

"Go home," said Barty, leaning forward for another kiss. "Get some rest. Be excited for tomorrow!"

"Goodbye," said Regulus, with finality.

Barty winked, turned on his heel, and disapparated.

Regulus lingered for a moment. He watched a moth flutter around a lamp and thought back to when he first met Barty. He was immediately infatuated. Barty had inherited a lot from his political father- confidence, people skills, ambition. Barty was intrigued by the Dark Lord. Regulus was in it for the cause- his parents had taught him about the dangers of Muggles and their offspring. He was so sure that the Dark Lord was the one who would revolutionize their world. Magic would be for wizards and wizardkind alone.

Regulus reached into his pocket to find the parchment he kept from Barty.

The note was a message. It would be Regulus's last message to the Dark Lord. After Regulus witnessed the Dark Lord kill a Muggle child. The child was playing Chase, just like Regulus had used to play with Sirius, Bella, Meda, and Cissy. The poor child had stumbled upon the meeting by sheer accident, and the Dark Lord had killed her without a second thought.

Regulus's eyes had been opened. The Dark Lord was not wizardkind's salvation. He was evil, and ruthless, and without love. With the help of Kreacher, the family's house-elf, Regulus discovered the secret to the Dark Lord's immortality- he had a Horcrux.

Regulus would have ended it days ago, but there was one reason not to.

Barty Crouch Jr. The most beautiful, loving, impressive man Regulus had ever met. Regulus had hinted at leaving the Death Eaters, but Barty, stupid, stupid Barty, was oblivious to anything Regulus said. Regulus was faced with the most difficult decision of his life- to lie to the man he loved.

Barty couldn't know what Regulus was planning. He would try to talk him out of it, or worse, tell the rest of the Death Eaters.

Then Regulus entertained the idea of Barty's supposedly brilliant plan, never intending for a second to go through with it. It was the hardest thing Regulus had to endure- he wanted to blurt it out, scream it to the heavens. That he knew the truth and he would right the wrongs he'd done.

Barty could never know.

Regulus apparated home, reappearing in his kitchen.

Kreacher was wiping down the table. The elf looked up at him.

Regulus nodded. "It's time to go."

Kreacher gulped. "Yes, Master Regulus." The elf folded the rag and set it on the table. "Shall we inform the Mistress?"

"No!" said Regulus hurriedly. "No, she can _never_ know, Kreacher. You understand me? Never."

Krecher nodded solemnly. "Have you said your last goodbyes?"

Regulus looked at the note for the Dark Lord. Something fell out of the folds- a photograph of Regulus and Barty at Moribund's bar. Regulus held back tears. "Yes." He picked up the photo and handed it to Kreacher.

"Keep that safe for me, will you?"

"Of course, Master," said Kreacher, taking it and tucking it under the cupboard where he slept.

"Off then," said Regulus, taking Kreacher's hand. Standing in the kitchen, Regulus began to sense that his time was coming, but his thoughts were not for his family and their mantra, or for the Dark Lord, or even this house where he grew up, even when he knew he'd never see them again. He thought of the man he loved.

The last thing he saw before disapparating was Barty's wide smile bidding him final farewell.


End file.
